


A Hundred Times Over

by irlangel



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Murder, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6764863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlangel/pseuds/irlangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>REPOST FROM OLD ACCOUNT</p><p>Immortal Fake AH Crew AU where Michael forgets and Geoff wishes he couldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hundred Times Over

**Author's Note:**

> this will likely be the last repost from my last account unless i get the energy to dig through my docs to find the breakfast club au fic

Someone wise once told Geoff Ramsey that everything happens for a reason, that there’s a purpose to even the most trivial happenings in this endless oblivion. That someone wise was a baked Ray Narvaez Jr., though Geoff is careful who he admits that to.

 

Time, Ray had told him, is only based on perspective. Time is different for everyone because your brains picks and chooses the most vivid parts of any moment. Like how two people watching the same scenario will remember it differently weeks from now, because time is full of little pockets you can stuff memories in.

 

“Do you remember when we first met?”

 

“Which time?”

 

Geoff emerges from the kitchen and takes a seat next to the younger boy on the immaculate white couch, watching the Lad take the ceramic mug from Geoff’s hands. It’s late, but when Michael had collapsed at Geoff’s doorstep at two in the morning with a slit throat, Geoff figured he could stay up a few more hours.

 

“It’s true we’ve met a lot, and I’d meet you a hundred times again if I could.”

 

There’s a tinge of pain behind the glance Michael spares him that Geoff still can’t figure out, and he watches tentatively as Michael blows on the steam billowing over the rim of the cup. He takes a sip and returns the mug to his boss’ hands, suddenly insecure as he rubs the pale line across his Adam’s apple where a mugger had gotten a little too friendly with a knife not even an hour ago. When Michael doesn’t reply, Geoff takes a sip of the coffee before refreshing his memory.

 

“It was at Gavin’s New Year’s Eve party two years ago.”

 

Michael shakes his head and leans back against the plush cushions, smiling amusedly when Geoff quirks an eyebrow at his declination. It’s strange seeing his boss out of a suit, Michael thinks as he tiredly examines the bleach stain on Geoff’s grey sweatpants.

 

“Was it not? Guess I’m getting old.”

 

“No, you’re right, but we never talked so it doesn’t really count.”

 

They meet three times before Geoff actually remembers his name.

 

The party is too loud as drinks are shoved eagerly into Geoff’s hands and music blares over speakers in the living room. Geoff’s had too many beers and really has to piss, and he makes a wrong turn when Jack gives him drunken directions to the bathroom upstairs. He’s glad he turns right instead of left, because he opens the door to Gavin’s bedroom where he and Michael are wrestling on the Brit’s bed. He feels like he’s peeking in on a sorority slumber party when Michael yanks up one of Gavin’s overpriced feather pillows and slaps it against his cheek.

 

The pillow practically explodes on impact. Feathers fly everywhere, adding to the festivity of New Year’s Eve that is confetti and the distinct smell of vomit all around the room.

 

There’s a tingly feeling in his gut when he sees the boys erupt in a fit of giggles and wrestle each other to the floor. White feathers get caught in Michael’s auburn curls and his cheeks are dusted pink from the alcohol and the exertion of wrestling. They lock eyes momentarily and Geoff feels closer to heaven than ever before. Or maybe he just really has to piss.

 

It feels unreal the second time they meet, this time at Jack’s birthday party. They’re wasted again and Geoff’s starting to believe that Michael is some sort of angel he can only see when he’s had too much to drink.

 

Everyone’s already passed out in Jack’s living room, and Geoff does a double take when Michael takes a seat next to him on the carpet with a near empty bottle of vodka in one hand and a plateful of poorly sliced strawberry shortcake in the other.

 

“Hey.” Michael slurps around a mouthful of cake, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk’s. Geoff’s not too tired to laugh for once, but Michael doesn’t seem pleased with Geoff’s amusement as he shoves the man’s shoulder.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“I asked you first.”

 

“No, you didn’t.”

 

Michael shushes Geoff in reply, picking up a fistful of cake and smearing it across Geoff’s mustache. Geoff doesn’t kiss Michael then, but God does he want to. He wants to taste the vodka on his lips and the vanilla icing between their tongues. Before he has a chance to think more about Michael’s plush lips, the boy leans forward and bumps his head against the older man’s chest. Geoff’s not too sure what to make out of this gesture.

 

“Michael.”

 

“Geoff.”

 

“No,  _ Michael. _ ”

 

“Yeah, but  _ I’m  _ Geoff.”

 

“ _ Ohhh. _ ” Michael giggles and tips the vodka bottle back by its neck, taking a long swig before collapsing in front of Geoff. When Geoff wakes up on Jack’s couch the next morning, his head feels like it’s about to burst and he’s got a phone number scribbled in black sharpie on his forearm. He ends up killing himself in Jack’s bathroom, using her razor to slice his wrists just so he can wake up without a migraine. When he wakes, his wrists are so botched that the phone number is illegible. 

 

He can’t remember whose it is anyways.

 

The next time they meet it’s not in the pretense of another event like Ray’s baked ramble had predicted. Under the recommendation of Gavin, Geoff wills himself to drive out of town to meet up with Michael for a sort of job interview. They met at Jon Risinger’s coffeehouse, of all the places to have a cliché meetup. Geoff looks through Michael’s files while the ginger orders some fancy vanilla espresso Geoff couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of, amongst other things. When Michael returns with their drinks, Geoff’s surprised when their eyes meet because he knows those eyes.

 

The first time Michael forgets it scares the living hell out of Geoff. He’d known Michael was immortal, but he was in much more shock than anticipated when Ryan yanked the boy’s auburn curls with one hand and wrapped his long fingers around his throat with the other, squeezing him until he was purple. What an awful way to go, Geoff knew.

 

It’s not seeing Michael die that scares Geoff, it’s that he wakes up screaming and gasping for breath, unable to remember any of the faces around the room. He was only gone for a few minutes, but it happened again five weeks later. He was gone for hours and paced the living room, racking his brain to try to remember  _ something _ about _ anyone _ . He eventually retreated to the bathroom and left the door open as he kneeled in front of the bathtub and banged his head against the porcelain rhythmically for nearly two hours until he died again.

 

The third time Michael forgets it’s more of a chore for everyone to get him to remember. He paces the kitchen back and forth while Jack makes lunch, occasionally stopping to peer over her shoulder before continuing again. His gaze shifts to the whiteboard on the fridge where “Ray pick up milk at the store today please - Jack” is written in the woman’s quick cursive. He stops pacing and stares, smudging Ray’s name with his thumb.

 

“Who’s Ray? I know that name. Where have I heard that name?”

 

“I don’t know, Michael.”

 

Sooner or later, everyone figured it was best to give half-assed replies than confuse him more once he got in this state of mind. He huffs at Jack’s reply but doesn’t question her further, deciding kicking a dropped cherry tomato around on the floor was more entertaining than interrogating the older woman.

 

Michael tears up during dinner that night when Gavin announces he and Meg are getting married. Geoff isn’t sure why Michael cries, but then again he’s not sure why Michael does half the fucking things he does. He tells him to calm down, that it’s not his wedding, but deep down Geoff realizes maybe Michael wishes it was.

 

“Sorry, who are you?”

 

Meg’s jaw tightens and Geoff wants to tell her, but she smiles and shakes Michael’s hand in a cool manner. Gavin looks embarrassed and floats off, mumbling something about needing a drink.

 

“Meg. I’m Gavin’s wife.”

 

“Oh, nice to meet you.”

 

Michael hurries away to catch up with Gavin after the reception, and Meg places a hand comfortingly on Geoff’s shoulder when she notices the guilt in his eyes.

 

“Geoff, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

 

“The more he dies, the more he forgets.”

 

“Does he ever forget you?”

 

Geoff doesn’t reply.

 

Geoff kisses Michael on a rainy Tuesday, and it’s something Michael remembers clearly no matter how many times he dies. It’s one of the few memories he’s able to hold on tightly to, Ray says memories like those go in the shirt pocket next to your heart instead of the ones in your jeans. Geoff recalls when he first saw Michael at Gavin’s New Year’s Eve party, and then how much he’d wanted to kiss him at Jack’s birthday party days later. He recalls his fiery Jersey attitude at his interview and recalls the first time Michael had cried himself to sleep in Geoff’s arms.

 

“Do I know you?”

 

There’s a lump in Geoff’s throat that’s too thick to swallow as he watches rain soak the younger boy’s hair, weighing his curls down and dripping down his cheeks.

 

“Just kidding.”

  
There’d be another time they met for the one hundredth and first time.


End file.
